


To Boldly Go

by Unforgotten



Series: Wherever We're Going [2]
Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Canon Disabled Character, Developing Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 14:08:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2695859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforgotten/pseuds/Unforgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the early days of Charles and Erik's relationship, there's still so much that's new.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Boldly Go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pearl_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/gifts).



> Thanks to cygnaut for beta'ing.
> 
> Charles and Erik are sixteen here.

"Hey," Erik said.

"Hi," Charles said back, because although Erik _could_ have meant 'hey, I hope you're planning to get me off sometime this year,' what he usually meant when they were like this was something more along the lines of 'oh hey, you're here, and so am I, and this is what we're doing.' It was the kind of thing that probably would have seemed silly to Charles in theory, and that he would never have tried to explain to anyone else for fear it would sound silly to them and ruin things somehow, but that seemed full of meaning when it happened in reality.

They were in Charles' room this time, unlike the times before, most of which had been in the living room. Charles had his shirt on, while Erik was totally, completely naked. It was definitely a huge step up, and Charles probably wouldn't have thought of it for a while if it hadn't been for one of the maids walking in on them on the couch yesterday. They'd just been necking, Charles hadn't even had Erik's jeans unbuttoned yet, but Erik had still been way too jumpy for them to do much of anything after that.

They were on Charles' bed, Charles sitting up against the headboard with Erik in his lap, and he really had been joking when he's said that Erik may as well take his clothes off now that they had a little more privacy. Well, half-joking, but he certainly hadn't expected Erik to actually do it. But Erik had, and Charles was here, and Erik was here, and he was warm and he was beautiful and, really, he should go around naked all the time, though it was probably better if he didn't, since Erik was already distracting enough in every class they shared and he'd probably get pretty self-conscious about it if Charles spent _every_ moment they were in each other's vicinity drooling. There had to be a limit. Somewhere. Probably.

"Look," Erik said, and Charles must have missed something. He was always missing things, especially lately. He needed to get his libido under control. (Later. Maybe. Though he didn't see how he was ever going to stop thinking about this, even after Erik had gone home. He had spent the last few weeks thinking about their makeouts nearly every waking moment, and Erik had still had most of his clothes for those.)

"Um. What am I looking at?" Charles asked, when Erik didn't finish his sentence and it became apparent that Erik was trying to draw his attention to something, rather than making one of those irritable points that always seemed to start with the word 'look.'

For once, Erik didn't roll his eyes, or radiate impatience like he thought Charles was the dimmest telepath he'd ever met. (He did think that, and said so often, but with an underlying fondness—so Charles never took it personally unless he was already having a bad day.) Instead, he leaned in a little closer, so that his breath was hot against Charles' ear as he said, "You have a hard on."

"Oh." Charles looked down and found it was true, his erection a clear bulge at the front of his slacks.

If wishes were erections, Charles would have had a dozen of them in Erik's presence over the past couple weeks. But for some reason, this was the first time he'd gotten one when Erik was still here, instead of several hours after he'd gone home. Charles had started to think he was on some sort of time delay. That would have been just his luck.

Erik ran his hand down Charles' stomach, slowly enough that Charles could protest if he wanted to. He didn't want to, goosebumps rippling up on his arms at the spike of arousal that came from knowing where Erik's hand was headed, and from knowing that Erik's attention was entirely on this, too.

When Erik's hand came to rest on Charles' erection, his touch was too light to feel through the fabric, though the sight alone was enough to make Charles groan.

"Is this okay?" Erik asked.

"Uh-huh," Charles said, and instead of trying to explain that Erik didn't have to be so gentle, or trying to show Erik what he liked through his pants and underwear, which he wouldn't be able to feel much of anyway, he said, "I can, um. If you move for a minute, I can take these off."

"Okay." Erik swung his leg over Charles' lap and a moment later was sitting beside him instead. Charles couldn't help but notice the way Erik's erection bobbed back and forth as he moved. It looked bigger now that Erik was naked than it had during any of the handjobs Charles had given him, when Erik's shirt had been off and his fly open just enough to get him out. It looked even bigger than it had when Charles had given him a probably-not-very-good blowjob last week, which he had meant to repeat today since there was so much more space to maneuver here than there had been on the couch.

He was getting distracted again. Erik had noticed, and both his mind and his face were overrun with smugness.

Charles got his pants and underwear off, and his shirt for good measure, and with Erik watching him felt considerably more awkward and clumsy than he had getting dressed or undressed by himself in years. Then Erik swung back into his lap, and his hand went straight for Charles' dick again. He was projecting his eagerness, and even as he closed his fingers around it, Charles could feel how much he wanted to make Charles come.

"Harder than that," Charles said, when Erik began stroking him. He wanted to hide his face in Erik's shoulder, but resisted in favor of biting him instead, which he knew Erik liked. "As hard as you can, please."

Erik's hardest wasn't enough to get Charles off, not even after Charles tried to show him, but he could feel it now, at least, a distant pleasure that was better than his own hand was, good enough that it took a few minutes before knowing he wasn't going to come this way became actively frustrating.

"This is really nice," he managed, hoping Erik wouldn't take the rest of it the wrong way, as he was likely to forty percent of the time due to being incredibly paranoid, "but it would be better with my—with my vibrator."

Far from taking it as Charles informing him he wasn't good enough, Erik's mind lit up with surprise, and then interest.

"It's in my medical drawer," Charles said. That was where he kept his catheters and other medical items he didn't really want to talk about. Erik had never pried about anything that was in it, even if it was made out of metal, which was precisely why Charles kept it there. At first, he hadn't wanted to talk about it with Erik at all, sure that talking about sex would give his feelings away. Ever since they became involved, he hadn't wanted to talk about it unless it was actually relevant to something. "If you want to get it—?"

Charles had barely finished asking before the vibrator was floating toward him from the dresser by the bathroom. Thankfully, Erik didn't make a production about this, as he sometimes did with other things, and it didn't float quite long enough to make Charles too embarrassed to continue. He was able to show Erik where to hold it and how tightly, and to turn it on and ramp it up to its highest setting before burying his face in Erik's shoulder, as he'd wanted to do before.

A minute later, it was starting to get good—really good—Charles had never made a better purchase off the internet—and he removed his face from Erik's shoulder, a little embarrassed about having been embarrassed, but too turned on to worry about it much. Erik kissed him on the lips, short and scattered, though more on Charles' end than his, and then turned his attention to Charles' neck, that sensitive spot that was always so good for Erik to kiss, suck, and scrape his teeth on.

But though it had always been good before, it was distracting this time. When Charles masturbated, he only ever concentrated on one thing. This way, his focus was fragmented, and as much as he usually loved Erik's attention to his neck, this time he was tempted to tell him to lay off. But then, a minute later, his neck and his dick caught up to each other, one informing the other in a way that didn't often happen for him.

It was a good thing Charles found smugness sexy, for Erik was beyond pleased with himself, and the way Charles was gripping his arms, nearly hard enough to bruise. He was even more pleased by the sounds Charles was making. He was never quiet, but he'd never been this loud, and he couldn't have turned it down if he'd tried.

When Charles came, pulsing slowly and weakly over Erik's fingers and onto his own stomach, he groaned, and Erik groaned with him. Before Charles could get his breath or even think about returning the favor, Erik reached for his own erection, jerking himself fast and hard for three or four strokes before coming all over Charles' stomach as well. It was an incredible sight, especially since Charles had never seen Erik touch himself before, nor ever really thought about Erik coming on him (although Erik had, snatches of fantasy that flickered through his mind briefly before being put away).

"Maybe we could sometime," Charles said.

"To which one?"

Erik always asked that whenever Charles responded to his fantasies. Sometimes Charles answered, and sometimes he pled the Fifth, but this time he said, "The one involving your face." That one was the most well-thought out, except that Erik hadn't had the time to incorporate the vibrator into it yet—but the idea of Erik on his knees in front of Charles' wheelchair was breathtaking.

After their breathing had slowed down, and Erik had resumed his ability to meet Charles' eyes, they kissed for a long time before cleaning up and getting dressed.

"What do you want to do now?" Erik asked. He always asked, even if it was late by the time they were finished making out; he had the vague sense that it wouldn't be gentlemanly to leave right away, that it would seem like he was just using Charles if he did. Charles thought that was stupid, considering that Erik had been coming over nearly every day since they had met in the middle of first grade, and that they certainly hadn't been making out for the last ten years—it hadn't even been a month, in fact—but he knew better than to make any kind of remark about it, as the most likely result would be that Erik would start leaving immediately after just to prove whatever it was he always thought he was proving. Charles would rather he stayed, even if the reason behind it was silly.

It wasn't that late today yet, and it was a Friday besides, so Charles didn't feel guilty about suggesting they watch a movie. It didn't even matter that Erik wouldn't make out with him on the couch anymore; he was agreeable to snuggling, his arm over Charles' shoulders, and that along with fighting over a bag of microwavable popcorn turned out to be an excellent plan.

It had gotten dark, and Erik really was about to go when Charles said, "Do you think you could stay over tonight?"

In response, Erik held out his hand for Charles' smart phone, a familiar gesture.

Erik hadn't stayed over for a while now. Charles had stopped asking him a few months ago, worried that it would be inappropriate, and disingenuous, to sleep in the same bed with Erik when Erik didn't know how he felt. Even after he'd realized that Erik felt the same way, it would have felt too strange. But they'd been together for a few weeks now, and Charles hadn't even realized how much he'd missed it when Erik slept over, until he handed Erik his phone and watched as Erik had a muttered conversation with his foster mother.

***

It was around one in the morning when they went to bed. They'd watched several more movies, and, after Charles convinced Erik that the staff had all gone home for the night, and that his mother was sound asleep, they made out some more, this time on the familiar terrain of the couch. If Charles had been less tired, he'd have tried for that blowjob after all, but he was a little too worried he'd fall off the couch, so Erik got the usual handjob, accompanied by Charles sucking on his earlobe, which he'd never thought of before but turned out to be a hit.

The thing Charles had always liked the best about having Erik over was the conversations they'd always had in the middle of the night. It was so much easier to be honest in the dark, somehow, to talk there about things they never would have brought up in the light of day. It was the only time Charles had ever admitted how frightened he was, every time he'd needed another surgery after the accident; it was the only time Erik had ever talked about his mother. They were so different in so many ways, but for both of them it was easier to show anger than to be vulnerable, except when they were here.

Charles had thus meant to have some sort of conversation, even if it were one of the more inane ones that seemed hilarious late at night and less so by far in the morning, but by the time he was done in the bathroom, Erik had already fallen asleep.

"I didn't take that long," he grumbled, but though he grumbled it three more times after that, his volume increasing each time, Erik didn't stir.

When Charles' alarm went off a few hours later, though, it woke Erik up as well, just like it always had. Charles slapped it off, then turned himself over in bed. He'd gone to sleep facing away from Erik, and now was able to cuddle up behind him, wrapping an arm around Erik's waist.

"Hi," Charles said sleepily, burying his head between Erik's shoulder blades. He smelled good. The way he smelled was exactly why Charles couldn't have invited him after he'd started thinking of him this way and before they'd actually started making out; he'd have forgotten that friends didn't do this, no matter how affectionate and uninhibited being half-asleep made them feel. He'd have made an idiot out of himself. But he could get away with it now. There was no reason why he couldn't.

Charles hadn't meant to stay up—this had long since become routine enough that he could change positions while half-asleep, and often didn't even remember having done so by the morning—but after a few minutes, it became clear that Erik was more awake than he'd been before, and worrying over something, though not quite openly enough for Charles to pick up on what it was. Well, maybe they'd get to have one of their talks after all.

There was no use asking Erik was he was thinking about if he wasn't making it obvious, so Charles just breathed in his scent, his forehead pressed against the back of Erik's shirt, until Erik finally blurted it out into the darkness:

"Do you ever think you might be a sex addict?"

"Um," Charles said. "No? Why, do _you_ think I'm a sex addict?"

Erik made an impatient sound, as he so often did at Charles' best jokes. He had no taste, yet always insisted Charles had neither that, nor a sense of timing. "You know I don't mean you."

"Um," Charles said again. "So, why do you think you're a sex addict, again?"

Erik stayed silent, just long enough that Charles thought that maybe he wasn't going to answer at all. Then, he said, "I think about it all the time."

"You're not the only one."

"No, I mean I think about it _all_ the time. Ever since we—ever since I—I never used to think about it at all, and now it's the only thing I can think about." There was a long pause, and Charles was about to say that that sounded pretty standard to him before Erik continued: "I—every morning before school, and then again with you, and before I go to bed—I used to maybe once a week, before."

Along with this came more snatches of thought, this time memories rather than fantasies: Erik masturbating in his shower at home, and curled up in bed, always thinking about Charles. Erik enjoying it, and wondering if he was supposed to, or if that was one more thing about him that was wrong. Wondering, too, if Charles would think it was awful. Wondering if Charles knew he had an erection right here, again, just because the warmth of Charles' body against his back, Charles' arm around him.

Well, Charles certainly knew all about it now. He wasn't really sure how, to Erik's mind, it could be anything other than a compliment to say that Charles turned him on so much that he couldn't help but get himself off as often as possible while thinking about him. "That sounds normal to me," he said. "Trust me, almost everyone our age thinks about it a lot." It was kind of gross, actually, and one of the top reasons Charles was working to develop his shields a little better—Erik was the only person whose sex life, inner or otherwise, that he really wanted to be privy to.

"Do you?"

"Think about it a lot? I hardly think about anything else, to be honest."

"Okay. But do you—touch—"

Charles' face heated up, going from room temperature to boiling in a matter of seconds. He was abruptly very glad that Erik couldn't see him. "Yes. Not usually in the mornings, but before bed—yes. All the time. Honestly, we could probably synchronize it, if you wanted."

"Okay." Erik didn't sound entirely convinced, but he'd never been the type to believe anything anyone said right off the bat. He preferred to think about it, come to his own conclusions without making whatever it was an incessant subject of conversation.

Charles waited to see if Erik would say anything else, and when Erik didn't, he slid his hand under Erik's nightshirt, over Erik's stomach and then back down to trace along the waistband of his boxers. "Do you want me to—"

"Yeah," Erik said, and Charles reached inside his boxers to get Erik off for the third time that day. (The fourth time, if you were counting in the shower this morning.)

Once Erik came, with a groan that was somehow all the better for being voiced in the dark, he rolled over so they could make out properly, and so Erik could kiss Charles properly, rub his palms over Charles' nipple, fondle Charles' soft penis for a few minutes, even after he'd been assured that nothing else was likely to happen today. If Charles weren't a telepath, he didn't know if he could have believed in the genuine pleasure Erik showed in his body, that was undeniable in Erik's mind. Arousal buzzed through Charles' body, ramping higher and higher until it got to be too much and he had to push Erik off.

Erik fell back to sleep right away, and Charles wasn't long following him.

And in the morning, Charles woke up first, and, given that he could tell Erik was about five minutes away from waking on his own, felt no remorse about poking him in the shoulder until Erik's eyes cracked open in a sleepy scowl.

"Hi," Charles said, feeling absurdly delighted that he was here, and that Erik was here with him.

Erik, on the other hand, clearly thought that Charles was just absurd, but still, he played along and said, "Hey."


End file.
